


Don’t Shoot the Messenger

by ovijiaboardz



Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types, New Dangan Ronpa V3: Everyone's New Semester of Killing
Genre: Cultural Differences, Gen, Headcanon, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Introspection, Morality, References to Polynesian Religion & Lore, Religion, Religious Imagery & Symbolism, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-01-25
Updated: 2019-01-25
Packaged: 2019-10-16 03:50:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 984
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17542136
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ovijiaboardz/pseuds/ovijiaboardz
Summary: The word of a god isn’t something you can criticize. Yonaga preached of her pretentious deity and customs, yet no one ever seemed to be listening.That was okay.She knew just how to appeal to groups of people, because she’s done it before.





	Don’t Shoot the Messenger

**Author's Note:**

> I did some background research on Polynesia for some of this. Some of it’s based on canon, some of it’s based on nonfiction, and some of it’s just personal headcanons.  
> I’ve been wanting to write something for Angie for a while. She’s really interesting to me.

The word of a god isn’t something you can criticize. In the world only Angie knew (the only world she’s  _ ever  _ known,) those who criticize the Kapu System were put to death, tied to poles and burned alive. Here, there were different constructs. For once, women and men ate together, and treated the food like a casual luxury. This would’ve been frowned upon, and they would’ve been punished. They also took no value in silence. The only times where Angie could quietly meditate and pray without background disturbances was nighttime. She missed Kāhuna nui, a peaceful time where the village had to stay absolutely silent. Babies didn’t cry, dogs didn’t howl, and the wind itself seemed to fall stiff. The gods were listening, and they were alone with the spirits of the living and the dead.

Yonaga was distraught at first by the carefree, and often vulgar ways they expressed themselves. Some, like Kokichi, broke customs and laughed at serious matters like death and sacrifice. Others, like Iruma-san, would openly express their bodies in a fluctuated manner, as if their god-given body was cheap, and not something worth protecting. If anyone acted like them where she was from… she didn’t want to think about that.

The technology was grand and intimidating as well, from the flashing executions to the ultimate robot who called himself a student. She didn’t know if she was suspicious of him, or if she was simply intimidated. However, he claimed he always wanted to learn new things. Angie smiled. Surely, he’d be open to her preachings and she can lead the empathetic machinery in the right direction, too! Not much different from all the people.

Yonaga preached of her pretentious deity and customs, yet no one ever seemed to be listening. In fact, they didn’t seem to understand, deeming her shady. 

She wasn’t shady, and they should understand that they need Atua. They needed hope. Unity.

That’s not the kind of life they’ve learned.

She quickly realized how different she was. They didn’t hold the same luxuries she did, they didn’t know about Atua, or the customs of her island. They were foreigners, every last one of them. They were lost and suffering, and they were dropping like flies.  _ Four people were dead. _ These people were miserable and lost, and without guidance they’d be left slaughtering each other until no one was left.

Angie thought back to the time the island wasn’t invaded, and she gathered everyone together to fight for their land. She remembered telling them what they should do, convinced it was the words of Atua. Strangely, she found herself agreeing with Atua’s desire. She opened her heart, and let Atua whisper what he feels was best for everyone. 

(She wondered why she always seemed to agree with him - perhaps she was really that hopeful.)

In the end, the island was saved. The villagers thanked her up and down, but she declined. It wasn’t her word, it was Atua’s. The words of a human is dirty and flawed, but she believed in her gods. They knew what was best for her, surely they did. You can’t shoot the messenger. Nothing she said could be criticized, because she was a vessel for her god to speak through. The people loved her, and Angie was never lonely. No one questioned her power. According to century old customs, anyone who dared question god and go against his word would be punished. Comfort was a snug mask for fear, but it kept things in check.

So, Angie decided to take her old customs and change them up a little for something that would appeal to her friends. She knew just how to appeal to groups of people, because she’s done it before. She’d learn their complaints, and then  _ Atua  _ would offer a solution. Atua loved them and would always be with them, so they’d never be lonely. They’d be happy and fulfilled, and no more friends would die. They’d grow a sense of unity that Kaede would’ve loved.

(Despite the fact that Kaede was a  _ murderer _ and shouldn’t be looked up to. She stomped on the flashback light, shattering it to pieces. “Whoops!”)

At that notion, Shuichi excused himself from the room with a frown. 

She held Himiko tight in her arms, and she didn’t want to let go. The tiny mage girl was so warm and snuggly. Angie spoke to the scared girl with soft words of comfort, and she accepted. She understood Himiko, who had no one to confide in. She couldn’t open up to anyone, but Atua was there for her.

_ Divine. _

_ The desire to leave in itself is a sin. Instead, Atua wanted them to exist here in serenity. At least they’d never get lonely! _

She held Tsumugi tight. “Red eyes and black hair… what a handsome god…”

The others had strange desires, but this would have to do.

She thought back to the flashback light and shuddered. Thank god she broke it, otherwise they’d be beyond saving. They didn’t need that information. Despair would only stray them farther away from their saving grace.

The dead can come back. She smiled, bitterly thinking about how Korekiyo had referred to her sacred practices as escapism. Who’s the escapist now, hm? She didn’t say that, though. Instead, Angie decided it would be worth a try. Resurrection as a motive? Not on her watch. 

She reached for the candle, and felt a hard knock on the back of her head. As she fell to the floor, she used the rest of her strength to reach for the air. The realization hit her. It couldn’t be anything else.

 

‘God? Are you… really there…?’

 

_ (Did I ever believe? Will Atua die with me?) _

 

There was no shining light, no hand that pulled her to her feet. Only darkness as far as the eye can see. She felt everything, then felt nothing at all.   
  



End file.
